


Counting to Infinity

by FrostedFox



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Five And One, Gen, Murder Family, five + one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedFox/pseuds/FrostedFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Will is alone with Abigail and one time he is not. Because he keeps track of this sort of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting to Infinity

**i.**

The first time they were alone together, Will took her for a walk around the hospital.

“Alana does this with me,” she said.

“I know,” he replied.

 

**ii.**

It was raining out the second time, so they stayed inside. Will brought a puzzle and they absently tried to find what fit together. They had little luck. Not much was said.

He left the puzzle for her.

 

**iii.**

The third time they were alone was when he came to pick her up to take her home. The decision had been made after many long conversations with Alana and Hannibal. Will and Hannibal were her guardians, but it had come down to him in the end. Hannibal was too busy with his work. He did not have enough time, and Abigail needed time.

Hannibal had promised more than once to give money to support Abigail, to buy her anything that she could want. Will had no idea what she wanted. As they packed what few belongings she had, Will noticed the puzzle, untouched and back in the box, sitting in the corner of the room.

Will had no idea what she needed.

He was hyper aware that this was only their third time alone together. He kept track of this sort of thing. He waited for her to say something to him; the way she kept glancing over at him from the passenger seat made him suspect she was waiting for the same thing from him.

Even he knew that this was his responsibility as the adult, as the person with the power over the situation. He waited hopefully for her to speak first, shooting sidelong glances in her direction every few moments until it was too late, anyways.

He pulled into his driveway. The further from the city lights they travelled, the darker it became. It was as though they were underground here. Will had almost forgotten what time it was. Abigail yawned and he felt a wave of anxiety. He had prepared a room for her, of course, and had made it as comfortable as he could given the materials and time that he had. He was as ready as he could be, but he didn’t feel ready at all. He took a deep breath and opened his door, came around the car quickly to open hers before she had a chance.

She followed him into his small house, looking around herself, saying nothing. His dogs snuffled around her feet, intrigued by the new person, new scent. He opened the door to her bedroom. It was small, but bigger than the room Abigail had at the hospital.

“I’ll just, uh, go grab your bags,” he said.

“I can help-” she began to offer, but Will waved her off.

“It’s fine. You can look around the house if you want. It’s not very big, but it should fit the two of us. And the dogs.” She smiled.

Will left the house.

 

**iv.**

When he came back in, Abigail was kneeling on the ground, allowing the dogs to smell her outstretched hands, to crowd around her. He moved quietly, afraid for some reason that she would startle. She didn’t look up when he walked past. Will went back to her room to put her bags - two suitcases, surprisingly light - down. When he returned to the main room, Abigail was on her feet, waiting for him.

“Your stuff is just in your room. We can go out tomorrow if you want, get you anything else you need.”

“You and me?”

“I - I guess so. You want me to invite Alana along?”

Abigail shook her head gently, her straight, dark hair swinging. “No, you don’t have to. I don’t know. Whatever is easiest, I guess.”

Will took a step forward, put his hand out to rest on her arm before hesitating and pulling it back to his side. “Abigail, we’re only thinking of you. We’ll do whatever you need. You don’t have to worry about us.”

Abigail nodded, noted the plural and mumbled, “not ‘us’, not ‘we’. I’m not worried about Dr. Bloom and Hannibal.”

“Me?” He asked. Her eyes, deep brown and staring at him, were her response. “Please don’t worry about me.” Will looked at his watch to avoid eye contact or the inevitable awkwardness. “Jesus, you must be exhausted. Do you think you need any help getting set up?” He wondered what he meant almost instantly after the words left his mouth. She seemed to as well, tilting her head, contemplating the question.

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Abigail.”

“‘Night, Will.”

 

**v.**

He wasn’t sure why he was still counting. He wasn’t sure why he re-started over night. He worried that he would start counting days. The problem with counting is that no one had ever counted to infinity. Counting is the promise of an ending.

She would not look at him. Abigail sat at the breakfast table and didn’t look at him. She ate her cereal; she ensured her hair blocked her face from him as much as she could. She was trying to be subtle, invisible. She was failing. Or maybe Will was being too observant.

The doorbell rang as she ate, and she jumped at the noise, then froze and stared down the flakes in her bowl. Will went to answer. He always dressed before he left his room. Abigail was in pajamas. Too big, but the material looked like silk. Just Alana’s taste. Will smiled to himself.

When he opened the door, he found Hannibal smiling at him. Smiling in that way that set his nerves on edge and Will could never decide if he liked it or not. Hannibal nodded his head and Will stepped aside to allow him in. He moved straight for the kitchen as if he somehow sensed exactly where Abigail was. Will followed him into the kitchen. Maybe it was a chef’s tendency to be attracted to kitchens.

Abigail looked up, her face breaking into a smile. “Hannibal,” she greeted, all warmth and politeness.

“Abigail,” he responded. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she said, and looked back down at her cereal. Hannibal just looked at her for a moment before turning back to Will.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure, yeah.” Will led Hannibal down the hall towards his bedroom. There wasn’t enough space in the house to go anywhere else if they didn’t want Abigail to hear.

 

**\-- vi. --**

Hannibal looked around the room. There was no judgment in his gaze. No surprise that this was where Will had led him. His eyes finally landed on Will, who looked back expectantly.

“How are you, Will?”

“I’m fine. I’m a bit lost. Abigail seems so withdrawn. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if she wants to be here."

“What alternative is there?” Hannibal asked, and the question was surprisingly comforting. It was with Will, or at the hospital, and he knew Abigail didn’t want to be there. He stood up a little straighter. Hannibal continued, “does she need anything? Money for clothing? I can provide for her.”

“I know you can,” Will said. “I’m not sure yet. I was going to take her shopping, but she didn’t seem entirely keen.”

“I’d like to invite you both to a dinner at my place, perhaps tonight?”

“With others?”

“I was thinking about inviting Alana Bloom. Would that be alright?”

“Yes! Uh- Yeah. That would be fine.”

The same smile from before. Will smiled back this time. “Good. I will see you at 7?”

“Sounds fine.”

Hannibal was still smiling as Will followed him back out of the room and into the kitchen.

Abigail was nowhere in sight.

**_\---_ **

Abigail was tired of living in a hurricane of feelings and numbers. Counting. Always counting. She couldn’t sit here and fight them off any longer. She needed to move, so she went to the only sanctuary she had ever had: Hannibal’s office. She climbed the ladder to the loft.

Abigail enjoyed being surrounded by the scent of cologne and old pages. It was enough to keep her from the thoughts that she was trying so hard to keep out. Enough to keep her from counting every minute she was still alive.

It was just enough.

She breathed in, out, and in again. Another minute alive. She wondered at what point they had noticed her absence. She knew she would be found, but for now, this was enough.

And the counting could cease.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is gettingsnowedunder.tumblr.com for all interested. Thank you for reading, you lovely people!


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